Heart and Other Toys

Pathan though grunted so loud in her depths, He had never felt anything like the toxic combination of elegance and hunger. His head spun, drawing logic away—and misreading her cries, he leaned down.

"What did you say?" Pathan asked, zooming his blank stare over her face. Sneha's eyeballs were rolled back into her head. Her drooling tongue was hanging out of her quivering lips; her saliva was dribbling to her chin. A tear rolled down her cheek, and more followed, like a stream. All he could grasp was her gasping for oxygen. Perchance she was unconscious, maybe she never saw it coming, or perhaps it was over before she knew it. "What happened, bitch?"

"Kaadhal (Love)." Sneha murmured, and a faint smile spread over her face, and kept spreading and spreading, till burst into a grunt.

"Bitch." Pathan grunted in her mouth, stretching her — stretching all over her. Skin against skin. Breasts against chest. Belly to belly. There was not an inch of her body that wasn't engulfed by his. Had he not propped himself up on his elbows, his weight would have been intolerable.

Her warm breath mingled with his, their tongues mingled, - as they drank together, a cocktail of their mixed saliva. Pathan resumed what he was sent for on earth. Sneha wrapped herself around him, with her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist, and her pussy around his meat, her tongue around his lips.

Pathan began to pick up the pace - each thrust faster, harder, and deeper than the last. Each gut-depth thrust was a sensuous jolt until they turned into the wild—merciless pounding of her pussy. Every bit of pressure corresponded with another withdrawal, leaving her panting and yearning. On each brutal invasion of Pathan's magnificent cock—his heavy balls met her backside with sharp, rhythmic smacks. They echoed through the room, obscene and arousing. That was the best music she had ever heard.

"Fuck. What a horny bitch are you?" Pathan shivered, feeling her pussy muscles again pulsating against his manhood. He leaned back — his mouth went to her erect nipple, tugging sweetly in time to his thrusting.

"Look at me, bitch..." Pathan rambled, his voice sounded like a primal grunt, and kneading his paws kinda hands, he clutched her both breasts fully. He had a rough, workingman's fingers that stimulated her nipple until she wished his mouth was on it instead. "You hate me, huh? Then you're going to hate how much you love it."

"Slower please," Sneha moaned knowing, he'll do the opposite. Her lustful gaze caressed his sharp features. His face was grave, almost severe. Nature had squandered an irrational quantity of male beauty on this complex creature of brutal nativity.

She couldn't rationalize anything—her surrender to him—his possession of her, and even her own feelings. What they were doing wasn't a wild fuck alone. But one intricate—involved layered with meaning, which she couldn't decipher, while thinking from the middle of her body. Her nipple in his mother sent her another shudder, she squeezed her eyes—another world came alive, a landscape of lust and longing, with sensation the promise of glory.

"Does your husband ever fuck you this hard?" Pathan rumbled, still in those self-doubts, He withdrew almost to the head of his shaft, then submerged the entire length with excruciating velocity.

"Always." Sneha teased him for his diabolical grin and silly probes, while her pussy clamped down clutching his meat. Though, to her own surprise, she didn't want to think of her husband; she didn't want to think of anyone—but him. Then she murmured something in Tamil, biting her lower lip — pretty vulgarly, like an actress of a B-grade movie would do. Her hooded bedroom eyes gazed at him.

"Bitch. I'll make you forget his name even," in rasping breath, Pathan swore, tormented in jealous, and all of his anguish manifested in

Pathan hummed, and started fucking her—with his full length, emptying and filling her, swiftly, mercilessly. It was only his firm grip on her breasts that kept her from going out of the window, against those powerful, relentless thrust.

"Please slow Pathan..." begged Sneha. "I can't survive you. Oh, please."

Pathan didn't stop, but his hands moved from her breasts. His strong fingers kneaded her breasts, molding them as an artist did clay. Pathan drew her feet to his broad shoulders. His thrusting kept in momentum, and this new position, leveraged his cock retreating further on each backstroke and surging in harder.

"You're mine..." he rasped, licking her toe, "every inch of yours is mine." He kept driving into her, fierce and unrelenting, brutalizing her. "Your cunt is mine and you are mine."

Sneha offered her being against him, rocking her hips in time to his strokes. Each time he drew his steeled length from her body she screamed. When he shoved forward again, balls slapping against her clit, she started singing the ode in gratitude — both in Tamil.

Soon her body was again burning with a devouring fire, as he ploughed her cunt with demonic force. Sneha felt like the entire room—this entire hotel would ignite from the heat that seared her. She exploded into rainbows again, as her juices explosively gushed like a river all over Pathan's piercing monster. In 10 years of her married life, from the loss of her virginity, she had never cummed thrice.

Like those whore — Sneha yelled all the dirty words, which she had never said to anyone. That she never felt like saying. But all he could fathom was his name in her Tamil screams.

"What're you saying, bitch?" grunted Pathan as her pussy water bathed his monster generously. Probably he never felt so desperate for anything in his life, as he felt to hear those endearments. "Moan in English, bitch."

Pathan rolled on his side, spooning her — he lay behind her. Even when the shattering climax left her. It took her awhile in recovering from that earth-shattering orgasm that only existed before in erotic stories.

"Ahhhhhhh. Ah." Sneha moaned aloud. Her long lashes fluttered upward, her hand reaching to his face caressed his cheeks, his lips. The only thing Sneha hated about the position was that she couldn't see him and take joy in his equally euphoric features. Hearing him wasn't enough, no matter how he groaned out his delight with her body.

"Look at me, bitch," he groaned against her earlobe, as if he could read her mind. "What did you say, huh? Translate it." Pathan was damn curious to know, because he fathomed nothing, but heard her repeating his name again and again. "Were you still cursing me?"

"I said, let me go home now," Sneha teased him in a raspy voice, twisting her head to look into his eyes — her lips brushed her's. His perplexed face, impatient breath and desperation spoke volumes of longing for her. She melted for him. He has mellowed both, her heart — her pussy. But, she would die of shame to utter those vulgar words - which she spoke on the throes of a mindless euphoria.

"I'll make you say again, you arrogant whore." his bass voice thundered. Then his brawny arms enfolded her like a vice. Sneha felt trapped, as in a great iron machine. She didn't free herself even, but only moaned a laughter, as his meat slid against her pussy wall.

The way her body fits in him in this position, amplified her newfound sense of belonging. She moved her leg behind his, allowing him deeper of her. The sense of being pounded for praise added a playful spice, and she enjoyed teasing him. "I was saying, will you drop me home? My husband will come home soon."

"See you're a whore. Missing your hubby on my cock." Pathan rumbled in jealousy, yanking her leg up around his hip, squeezing her arse, the other cupping and kneading her breast, pinching her nipple. Despite he was already fucking for half an hour, there were no sign of weariness in him. In a few measured thrusts Pathan regained the preferred rhythm—ramming his cock from behind like a stud bull in its prime.

"Because..." Sneha moaned aloud. "I'll miss you all my life with him." Instinctively she contracted the muscles of her stretched sheath against his tool. Like her pussy wants to preserve the memory of this moment.

"You don't want us to fuck again," he groaned sadly, and slammed her monster in full length. On each thrust he withdrew his cock to the tip and pumped again.

Again she moaned something in Tamil that a paid street whore would not say. It frustrated him further. He thrust even deeper than before, probing and stroking and pleasuring her with a measured rhythm... deliberately pushing her over the edge of sanity. Her moans became uncontrollable screams, pleads, even cursing in her language.

"Do you now regret slapping me, bitch?" Pathan rumbled, clutching her shoulder for hold and slammed through her as his cock pumped like a piston, bringing them ever closer to the peak of ecstasy. "You'll at least miss this chudai bitch, even if you won't love me".

Sneha cried out most lecherous of endearment and praise to his cock, but not to his avail. Her cries, again echoing through the dark emptiness as he continued to drive his cock deeper and harder. Each thrust had more force, the power of his body showing no sign of abating. A feeling of complete ecstasy took over and flooded her body until Sneha began to tremble.

"Have you gone mad, on my Lund?" Pathan

Again Pathan couldn't grasp anything from her loud talks except, his own name on her lips again and again. He felt desperate to understand if there was something intimate about him. In that obsession he withdrew his monster furiously on her deviant teasing — even denying her from an orgasm.

"Ao-huu-O'huhhuuu-0h-OOohu," Sneha whimpered in protest, in the agony of emptiness. Panting heavily, she looked back at him. A diabolic grin on his face tickled her wits. "Tired?" Sneha gasped, knowing she can also play with the soft tender man—hiding under this cruel and apparently heartless man.

"Tired of you...!" Pathan gulped, and then something flickered in his impenetrable stare, and he added, "Now you've to beg for my cock."

Pathan rose, and in one mercurial movement to his feet, hauling her by her long hair into a kneeling position before his wetly shining rigid, cock touched her quivering pussy. "You're already missing it, bitch." Furiously he drove into her from behind, fierce and unrelenting. Her body moved away from him—he pulled her hair.

She grunted something aloud, again in Tami.

"What are you saying bitch?" His other hand rose in the air, and full on her right butt. Her dusky flash—shimmered- rippled. She screamed something again. "Can't you moan in English?" roared Pathan.

"You've to worship it, thankless bitch" Pathan smacked again, and stopped moving in her punishment. "Then fuck yourself." He spanked her other hip, "Move."

Sneha arched into his thigh, grinding herself on its solid length. "Please, give it to me..." Another low cry escaped her as constricting tension pulsed through her core. She shoved until his cock pressed flush in her tight little snatch and they were fully joined. From that point forward nothing else mattered, as she squealed and went wild against his cock—her fingers, clawing threads of carpet.

"I know what you were saying," Pathan pulled her hair, giving up his quest for her praise. He drove in harder until it should have hurt, but he only delivered the most amazing quiver inside of her pussy. Her legs became jelly, and the loss of them pitched her face down against the opulent carpet. She shuddered again as orgasm overtook her.

"Whore," he growled behind her, and the unique blend of his stupid anger and wickedness lit her aflame with lust until she craved him even more. Until she couldn't imagine sex with another man in all of her life. The need consumed her,

"Yours!" sighed Sneha in confession, every cell of her existence was caught in the throes of a powerful release that rippled outward from her core and seized her body in uncontrollable tremors.

That was it.

His fist around her hair loosened. Pathan clamped his teeth down on her shoulder and thrust his hips forward. Her cunt-slot was overflowing, spilling out foaming juice onto the Pathan's cock-stalk and soaking his balls as those big bags of spunk swung in and slapped against her wringing pussy.

"Take it bitch... take my seeds." He grunted, and the warm squirt of his seed parched her like a brand and the climax continued with merciless convulsions.

Sneha screamed again—milking him with every contraction of her womb. Her love juices blended with the copious spurts of his relief. Her vision blurred until she slumped forward on one elbow with her upraised rump receiving the brunt of his final strokes.

He didn't end there. Swiftly withdrawing himself, he pulled her and demanded, "Now taste me".

Before she could react from the mist of ecstasy—his fuck-juices splashed against the slopes of her tits. His cock was still going off like a machine gun. Sneha had never known that so much cum could explode from a single set of balls!

Eyes dilated in lust—in awe, she looked up at him, her hand reaching out to his balls. A delicious groan ripped from his chest as he gripped her hair, his fingers twined tight against her skull. It made her high.

Pathan watered her cheeks and shoved the bursting juicy meat in his mouth. Sneha swallowed copious spurts of his relief with reluctance. Both the taste and her own moan was a pleasant surprise to Sneha. Coming on the rebound, his second torrent skimmed over her flashing tongue, making her taste buds tingle. Sneha floated her tongue in his slime. The sharp taste he put out mingled with a touch of sweetness had her drugged. "Mmm," she moaned louder, her tongue sliding over a thick bead of semen.

"You cock hungry whore of mine," Pathan bucked into her mouth. She lavished her tongue from the thick base, all the way up the endless inches of his strident column, like she was giving it another coating of paint.

Pathan began to stagger, feeling as if his life forces were spilling from his cock and balls, and he collapsed on the carpet. Sneha fell on him, hugging his back; she murmured something in his ear. Again—he didn't get her.

======================================================

1 months later:

"He is no more to rescue you," Qureshi giggled in triumph. "Even his ghost can't return after taking those bullets."

His name alone triggered memories. Nostalgia brought a side order of yearning with it. There were flashes of consciousness... of that forced kiss, of his ecstatic invasions, of being taken by his storm, of his love, of his blood

"He'll..." said Sneha, and her beautiful eyes there were heavy-lidded with sorrow, suddenly brightened.

"He'll..." said Sneha, and her sad eyes brightened.

The sanguinity of his voice somehow terrified him to the extent that he took a mental note of checking with the police commissioner about Pathan's grave.

"All right." said Qureshi, shrugging his right shoulder. "But you better get ready. Mr. Barak will be waiting for you." He pointed towards a salacious cocktail wear, and he added with a wicked wink, "For your first BBC!"

No. I won't surrender to your blackmailing, Sneha relented, "You can do whatever you can."

"All right..." Qureshi retorted, glaring at her. "Then I'll prefer to wait," and he looked at his wristwatch. "By the way, when will your dear hubby return home, normally?"

===

(To be continued).